


Troika

by drinkbloodlikewine, whiskeyandspite



Series: Rescues Timestamps [3]
Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Dirty Talk, M/M, Multi, Oral Sex, Rimming, Shameless Smut, Smut, Threesome, Threesome - M/M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-17
Updated: 2015-05-17
Packaged: 2018-03-31 01:09:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,996
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3958765
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/drinkbloodlikewine/pseuds/drinkbloodlikewine, https://archiveofourown.org/users/whiskeyandspite/pseuds/whiskeyandspite
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hannibal's fingers slide from Will’s chin down his neck, to the collar of his shirt and down beneath it, fingers cool against warm skin as they splay. Will’s lips part in pleasure, surprise, and Matt’s fingers come up to work the buttons of his shirt.</p><p>"We felt somewhat chastised by your words," Hannibal admits, warm, "and have decided to bond over mutual interest and experience."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Troika

**Author's Note:**

  * For [thellou](https://archiveofourown.org/users/thellou/gifts).



> A long-ago commission for [thellou](http://thellou.tumblr.com/) that we never got a chance to post!
> 
> This ostensibly takes place vaguely in the [Rescues](http://archiveofourown.org/works/2340413) verse, as a might-have-been-that-never-came-to-pass. There was such a fuss about Matt showing up at all in this series that we were wary of posting this while it was ongoing, but just to reiterate - might-have-been! Never-was! ;) Enjoy the shameless smut!

Will isn’t sure that he’s fully ever appreciated the phrase _deafening silence_ until now. Never has quiet been so loud that he can hardly think through it, let alone hear the voice that finally breaks it.

“Well, if no one’s going to say anything -”

“Sit,” Will answers, his own voice unfamiliar and a little startling when it finally creeps past his lips. “Don’t go anywhere.”

“What’s it been, ten minutes? Fifteen? And no one’s said shi-”

“We’re eating,” Will hisses. “We are eating and it is very pleasant and we are having a wonderful time.”

Matthew snorts, arms folded across his chest as he slouches back into the dining chair that, in all likelihood, costs more than what the man owns in his entirety. “Yeah, it’s a fuckin’ blast.”

Hannibal regards their guest, narrow eyes and a crooked smile, lanky, strong. It is easy to see the appeal, especially when he sets sharp teeth against his lip and slips his eyes to Hannibal. There is a danger to him, a promise of it, and a need to have Will again, for little other reason that he no longer can.

Less a cruelty and more a challenge, for him, anyway.

"I'm afraid the evening entertainment has taken the night off," Hannibal comments, watching Will tense beside him before he sighs and continues his meal. “Had I known you were used to it, I would have had them stay."

It is a taunt of his own, perhaps, maybe just a way to break the silence in a softer way. He can feel Will near-vibrate beside him, wondering if having them meet is a good idea, now that they have. Hannibal smiles thinly and sets his cutlery to his meal again.

Matt returns the smirk, turning his eyes downward for a moment to where he fidgets with the edge of the tablecloth, surreptitiously working a thread loose from the hem of it. “Funny,” Matt responds, mirthless. “Funny guy.”

“Matt,” Will interjects, glancing to Hannibal first, and then the other again.

“What? I’m having a great time, right? I love - whatever this food is, and all the fork options, and -”

“ _Matt_ ,” sighs Will again, his own taste for dinner lost suddenly. “I don’t know why I thought this would work. And I did, I really actually did,” he laughs.

“What, exactly, did you imagine?” Hannibal asks, not ungently.

“That you two might talk like civilized adults,” snorts Will, dropping his glasses to the table to rub his palms against his eyes. “That you might even hit it off. See, all that talk about how good I am at reading people -” Will trails off, standing up from the table and taking up not only the glass of wine, but the bottle along with it. “Fuck it. I’m going to go lay down. You two can fight to the death without me.”

Matt watches Will only until he passes by him, and doesn’t turn his head to regard him, smiling crooked down at his hands until he hears the flop of body against the couch. “Pistols at dawn, then?”

Hannibal's mouth works not to smile as he regards Will, where he can see the socked foot hanging off the edge of the couch, toes splaying and stilling again as he settles.

"That depends on what civility he had in mind," Hannibal replies, letting his eyes return to Matt as the other glances up, fingers still deliberately working destruction into the tablecloth. 

"I suppose he figured the things we had in common would bring us close enough to speak like adults. Medical experience perhaps, emergency rooms and the adrenaline from the work." He clicks the 'k' and allows a wider smile as Matt’s eyes narrow, taking up his own glass of wine to take a sip. 

"Experience and shared interests extend to pleasures," Hannibal suggests mildly, eyes to the couch again.

Only now does Matt glance over his shoulder towards the living room. From where he sits, he can see the length of Will spread long across the couch, the bottom of his wineglass against his chest. Will’s eyes narrow and he uplifts his middle finger to Matt, who grins broadly in return before ducking his head and turning back towards the table.

“So it seems,” agrees Matthew, lifting his eyes to meet Hannibal’s. The implication is clear but there is danger there, as well. An overconfident misstep - he’s always been too cocky - and Will would just as soon kick his ass as do other, more enjoyable things to it. “Are they shared, now, though? Just because they were before?”

"We are all capable and good at seeing people, Mr. Brown, even when we pretend ignorance in the matter," Hannibal replies, almost amicable, if his tone did not carry a similar danger. An allowance, perhaps, if it is at all his to give.

"Sharing is... offered," Hannibal adds, "when it is so obviously desired. And knowing an individual ofttimes comes better with a vulnerability." A tilt of his head, a smile. "I believe we can be civil in the Biblical sense, if not the modern one."

Matthew seems unconvinced, brow lifting as he gives up his torment of the tablecloth, delighting privately in the thought that Hannibal will find it later and maybe curse him. He twines his fingers together and lifts his palm towards the ceiling, stretching his arms above his head before letting them fall against the back of his chair. A display, as predatory as every move has been tonight, as much as he has to be infringing on the territory of another, stalking something laid claim to already.

“Doesn’t sound very Biblical to me,” Matt sighs, before returning his hands to the table’s edge to push his chair out. “But I say to you - everyone who looks at someone with lustful intent has already committed adultery in his heart,” he recites, curious smile catching the corner of his mouth. “So I guess it’s already done if you look at that way.”

Grinning, he stands and eases into another stretch, an athlete preparing for an event in some ways, his favorite sport, pursuing Will Graham. The idea of it sends his pulse a little faster - fond memories of the cat-scratches Will would drag against his skin, the endless litany of curses in spite and delight both. He wonders at Hannibal, though, why he would readily give something like this up, though to look at the man, Matt isn’t sure he wouldn’t make the same choice, if only to prove himself the better of the two.

Which he will.

He always does.

“I’ll be sure to say a rosary for it later,” he adds with a snort.

Hannibal smiles, watches the display before merely sitting back, a gesture of allowance, following Matt with his eyes as he goes to find Will where he lies drowning his misery on the couch. A murmur, another, a purring tone that Hannibal feels against his skin, that he knows Will feels as well, remembers. 

He considers how victorious Matt had felt, going to someone he had claimed as a prize to be won. He wonders if he realizes Will is much more than an owned thing.

"Matt, fuck off." It isn’t angry, almost playful, but Hannibal knows the tenor now, the tension there that sits closer to uncertainty than displeasure. He waits for it, the laugh, nervous and lovely, before taking another drink of his wine and standing, walking to join the two men in the living room.

Without a word, ignoring the narrow-eyed look Matt levels on him, Hannibal bends to take the wine from Will, away, so it will not spill by accident, before leaning closer to raise his chin to him and kiss against his lips, upside down.

Despite his annoyance with them both, Will hums into the kiss, pleased as their lips slip a little awkwardly together, warm and wine-red. But he stops himself, a hand against Hannibal’s cheek, a hand against his chest, to break the kiss and turn a glance to Matt in apology.

He isn’t given time to speak it before Matt leans to catch Will’s mouth quickly beneath his own. Matt plants a hand against the couch, leaning over Will where he sits, until the shock passes and with a displeased sound, Will pushes Matt away enough to level a narrow look at him. Matt imagines those fingers curved sharp against his skin, pulling red marks across black ink, and shivers.

“Matt, fucking stop,” he breathes, though undeniably his heart bangs hard against his chest, undeniably his cheeks burn scarlet. “What is your problem?”

“No problem,” Matt shrugs. His eyes dart towards Hannibal but then just as quickly back towards Will, unable to stop himself from a broad, brazen grin.

Will’s eyes narrow, suspicion clear behind the confusion and genuine want there. He lifts them to Hannibal who merely smiles, that gentle thing that is just for Will, not the look he had used as a shield against Matt not moments before. A reassurance, there, a permission to want, to take, a pause to wait for him to make a choice on his own.

Hannibal's fingers slide from Will’s chin down his neck, to the collar of his shirt and down beneath it, fingers cool against warm skin as they splay. Will’s lips part in pleasure, surprise, and Matt’s fingers come up to work the buttons of his shirt.

"We felt somewhat chastised by your words," Hannibal admits, warm, "and have decided to bond over mutual interest and experience."

Will swallows, shivering as Hannibal's hand slips further down his body as Matt’s work lower down his shirt, and Will brings his own fingers to grasp Hannibal's hair where he leans closer.

"You're not fucking serious,” he murmurs, though his lips tilt in a smile, shocked, amused, delighted and worried all at once as Hannibal works his belt free, his button open and Will shivers from Matt’s nails against his ribs.

“Of course he is,” Matt purrs in response, grinning as he shoves Will’s shirt off his shoulders and Will draws a sharp breath. “We are,” he corrects himself, eyes wide for a moment as he takes in Will half-bared beneath him, slouched against the arm of the couch, and sighs. “God, you’re fucking hot.”

Will colors, blinking at the familiar words that suddenly seem so strange when he looks to Matthew, but feels Hannibal’s hands spread across his chest. Resting a hand against the back of Hannibal’s neck, Will tilts his head up to pull him into a kiss, and - as if testing the waters, wary of them both like this - Will extends a hand towards Matt in kind.

“You two are going to kill me,” Will decides, rueful.

"Certainly hope not." Hannibal laughs, lips against Will’s still as he works his pants open. His boxers down to bare him further, his own hand brushing against Matt's as he tugs them further down, ignoring - perhaps relishing In - Will's squirming. Matt kisses against the palm offered him, bites the meat of his thumb to feel Will jerk a little.

"Fuck you incoherent maybe."

"Both?" Will laughs, shivering when Matt strokes him, dry, rough palm that is so different from Hannibal’s yet still entirely familiar.

Hannibal just bring a hand to rub against Will’s nipple until it peaks and he can gently pinch it to pull a sweet noise from him.

"Whoever you decide you want to," he offers, eyes to Matt to reach a predatory, teasing agreement. The man merely grins at him, ducks his head to lick against Will’s cock with a sighing laugh.

“Christ,” Will breathes, voice weakened, and the curse is like the first off rumble of thunder before a storm breaks.

“There you go,” encourages Matt, laughing low before he curls his tongue around the head of Will’s cock and sucks him deep into his mouth. Another curse, hissed this time, as Will curls forward but finds himself brought back by Hannibal’s hands, blue eyes wide as they turn from Hannibal to Matt, from Matt - licking broad up the side of his cock when Will does - back to Hannibal again. He bites his lip and reaches to Hannibal’s pants, to unfasten them where he stands and skim his fingers against the material stretching tighter where he hardens.

“I’m waiting for the part where my alarm goes off and I wake up so hard I can’t fucking stand,” Will murmurs, eyes narrowed in amusement, but in it a wariness too. He sees not consternation in Hannibal’s features, no bitterness or judgment towards him, and kisses his gratitude against the soft material of Hannibal’s boxers, the sight alone enough to elicit a moan from Matt.

Their eyes meet, and Will arches a brow, almost imperious. “I didn’t tell you to stop.”

“Tell me?” laughs Matt, and Will exchanges a grin with him before Matt sucks the sensitive head of Will’s cock hard enough that Will, too, laughs, arches, and his breath is warm against Hannibal’s cock as he tugs down his boxers to free it.

Shared experience, shared interests. Both know how Will writhes in his pleasure, both know how filthy his mouth runs when he’s lost himself to pleasure. Hannibal hums, allowing Will to arch back and suck him, shivering, fingers curling against Hannibal’s thigh as Matt draws his teeth against him. 

A give and take, Will caught entirely as the conduit of pleasure between two men he has given himself over to. Strong fingers slip down Will’s throat, curl beneath his jaw to feel him swallow, another’s hands slip Will’s jeans down his thighs and spread his legs further.

Will is flushed, pink and needy, as he pulls off and sucks the string of spit back to his mouth as blue eyes meet Hannibal’s, hand up to stroke him as he ducks his head to watch Matt as the other pulls off of him as well.

"Fucking am dreaming," he laughs, groans when Matt draws nails down his thighs just for that response.

Wriggling out of his pants, Will kicks them to the floor with Matt’s assistance in tugging them off his feet, socks tossed away, the only one of them bare now, entirely, exposed to two men who would devour him whole if given the chance. It is an exhilaration, entirely unreal, to be caught between the two most immoveable men Will has ever known. Despite how he moves through the world as a shadow, all averted eyes and forced smallness, he feels like the brilliant bright epicenter of the earth right now, the focus of both their desire.

He reaches up, snaring Hannibal’s tie in his fist and dragging him behind as Will leans forward to push Matthew back. Hannibal brings his knees over the arm of the couch and settles on them at Will’s back, sending goosebumps scattering across his skin when he kisses the small of his back. Will’s mouth meets Matthew’s roughly, a bruising, biting thing that earns him a growl from the man beneath him, and graceless hands shove his sweatshirt up beneath his arms, over his head, to bare his well-muscled chest and let his lips fall against that instead.

“Bed?” Will asks, voice cracking as he feels Hannibal’s lips drift lower down his spine, and arches his hips upward in response.

“Floor?” Matthew suggests instead and lets his arms hang over the arm of the couch as Will works open his pants with unsteady fingers.

A laugh from Will, a hum from Hannibal in agreement, and he turns back to meet dark eyes smug and amused as Hannibal continues counting each vertebra with his tongue.

"Floor," Will agrees, grinning when Matt smirks in triumph and arches back to let Will unclothe him, almost crawling to the floor and out of his pants first, settling on his elbows to watch as Will tosses the unnecessary clothes over the back of the couch and moves to follow.

Hannibal catches him, on his knees, hands on the floor and back arched, around the hips and holds him still, eyes up on Matt again as the other slowly comes to understand this particular game. Both have played this, both know the weakness and delightful response it draws.

"You wanna put that mouth to good use?" Matt drawls, drawing a knee up and watching Will hold himself up. The other raises an eyebrow.

"I dunno, do I?"

"You do." Hannibal's tone is like silk, encouraging and commanding both, and so rare that Will feels himself tremble in hearing it. He considers a moment more, another hesitation, before lowering himself to his elbows as well to tease the head of Matt’s cock with his tongue. Then Hannibal spreads Will’s ass with his thumbs and leans in to mirror the gesture, holding Will fast when he nearly slips from the couch in surprise.

“Oh god,” Will groans, ducking his head. “Your mouth is fucking perfect.” Nearly shaking where he supports himself, from the curl of Hannibal’s tongue, circling his entrance slow enough to be a torment, as from the delicious strain of the position. “Please,” begs Will, lifting his head only when Matt grasps him by the jaw and tilts it upward.

“Please what?”

Blinking, cheeks spilling scarlet down his neck, his shoulders, Will chases Matt’s thumb as it strokes across his lips and murmurs, “Please do that again.”

Matthew’s brows raise, and he leans up enough to pull Will’s hair back and bend his neck. “Please do what again?”

“Please lick my ass,” Will moans, and when Matt releases him with a laugh, he finds his cock swallowed deep by Will, clicking sounds in the back of his throat, tongue pulling against it. A shame only in that Will’s mouth, being beautifully full, can’t be heard in all his torrid glory, but worth it, Matt figures - worth it for the sight of how red his lips become, how wet in his eagerness.

“You’ve missed sucking me off, haven’t you?” purrs Matt, eyes flashing up to Hannibal in a taunting look, to make the man hear his words alongside the moaning, suckling sounds from Will. “You’ve always been so eager to drop to your knees and let me fuck your throat until there’s tears in your eyes.”

Will moans, a shivering sound as Hannibal holds him wider and pushes his tongue deeper in, answering Matt well enough without words. Always such a battle between them, him and Matt, a struggle before the sex pulled both utterly pliant, willing, rutting and fucking and touching until both were exhausted. Never such with Hannibal, always gentleness, always dedication to the other’s pleasure, even when Will climbed into his lap, barely awake, and whispered filthy things against him.

Hannibal gently strokes over Will’s thighs, moves one knee wider, then the other, spreading him almost flat to the couch as his hands scramble over the floor and Matt tugs his hair again. He is an utterly beautiful sight, wanton and used and trembling. To Matt the feisty, submissive thing that left claw marks on his skin and sucked bruises to his throat. To Hannibal, the man who did quite the same to him, and pulled sounds from him no one else has ever managed.

Matt’s cock falls against his belly as Will gasps, turning back to watch Hannibal, to meet his dark eyes with absolute adoration. “Hannibal, I - I’m going to -”

“No, you’re not,” both of the other men warn at once, and Will laughs, trembling from the intensity of them both, from the pressure of Hannibal’s tongue inside of him, from Matthew bare and beautiful before him. Swallowing hard, Will nods obedience to them both, and in truth, he doesn’t want to finish yet - not so soon, when they’re both at an accord at least for now, and with himself as their disputed territory, occupied and claimed.

Will reaches back to try for Hannibal’s tie again, to pull him away from the sensitive skin that he’s turned so red and swollen with his mouth alone, and without missing a beat - or a slow, long lick with tongue pressed flat against him - Hannibal catches Will’s hand and holds it there, and Will blinks wide-eyed at Matt.

A savage grin parts his lips and he touches himself now, hand curling slow along his cock, a twist from base to tip and when he arches Will moans for him. He has always delighted in watching Matthew touch himself, the sharp angles and smooth planes of his body working in all their glory, and Will can do nothing more than part his lips and hope that Matthew will fill them.

He does not, laughing as he stretches across the floor and murmurs, “Tell me what you want, Will.”

An old game, and Will is pink now, across his entire skin, cock leaking between his thighs as a slow suck against his opening jerks his body rigid with a helpless sound.

“I want,” he gasps, wetting his lips, dry from the quickness of his breath. “I want to fuck Hannibal,” Will manages, lips curled over his gritted teeth, groaning when another long, wet kiss is sucked against him as reward. “I want to see my cock in him and watch him stretch for me.” Matt’s eyes narrow, but Will shakes his head, his grin crooked and unsteady. “And I want you to fuck me.”

"Greedy boy," Hannibal murmurs, nuzzling against the soft skin where Will’s ass joins his thigh, parting his lips to bite him gently before squeezing the skin and letting Will go to scramble to the floor, level, and pushing a kiss against Matt's mouth with a groan.

Hannibal watches, the way Matt grabs for him, pulls Will higher up his body to spread him, rub them together. It's easy to imagine the two of them together, quick fucks after work, before work, at work - if rumors are to be believed. He undresses quickly enough, now all of them bare, follows Will to the floor, kissing against his neck, behind his ear, nuzzles to his hair.

“Filthy,” Matt adds, grinning against Will’s mouth before that too is kissed away, lips spreading wide against each other, tongues ensnared. Their hips curl together, cocks grinding against the other, their stomachs, their hips, anywhere that friction can be found but as Will draws back from Matthew’s mouth it’s Hannibal he seeks in place, reaching back to curl a hand in his hair and twisting to kiss him clumsy, the corner of his mouth, tongue tracing his lips before Will sighs against them.

A firmer tug and Hannibal follows, hand tracing up Will’s thigh, his back, finally off of him as he lays on his back, beside Matthew for a moment before Will takes himself from between Matt’s spread legs to lay heavy between Hannibal’s instead. It is a different sensation entirely - Matt is all fingernails and teeth, rough shoving to quick completions, filthy words and scolding, and Hannibal…

“I want to fuck you so deep you can’t breathe,” Will tells him, spreading a hand across his carved cheekbone, higher into his hair to bend his head back and kiss his throat. Hannibal, even in his roughest moments, is never hurried, never frantic. He runs his hands along Will’s sides, bringing not only their lengths together but also their chests, their hearts, to pull Will close against him and hold him near.

He feels Matt move behind him, gripping hard against his thighs, pushing, nails clawing the curves of his ass up and down again as his teeth join, nipping Will to distraction, enough to pull his attention back over his shoulder.

“Widen you so far you can’t sit for days,” Matt promises, jerking himself off a few times as he watches the two men beneath him move against each other again.

Hannibal laughs, a smooth and warm sound, no malice aimed at Matthew’s words, more at Will’s eagerness to play the middle, wriggle to spread, to arch, even as his hands slip smooth over Hannibal’s thighs to widen them. It is strangely intimate, Will able to twist between them both and give each the attention they crave.

Fingers between Hannibal’s legs, head ducked to whisper filthy things to Matt behind him, who holds him tight around the hips, contented, apparently, to wait for Will to start. Hannibal avoids Matt’s look, runs his hands through Will’s hair to push it back from his face, finding Matt is all too happy to gather it in a tight grip, pulling a groan from Will.

"Keep your promises," Hannibal purrs against him, biting Will’s bottom lip, another set of teeth against his shoulder at the same time, making Will wriggle pleasantly between them both.

Had the scenario been described to Will - over dinner, as the other two apparently had - he would have shaken his head and blushed and stammered about not being able to keep track of all those hands and mouths and legs. He would have declined, called them both insane, and returned to Wolf Trap to jerk off again and again at even the imagining of it.

But here, between them both, he finds himself comfortable. Trusting Matt not to be an ass, trusting Hannibal not to be cruel, and Will’s mind works in a wonderful and harried frenzy as it’s split between them.

He can feel that Matthew needs to be on top of them both, that it will please him to not only be the one to penetrate Will but to see Hannibal beneath, spread across the floor, and to fill Will with his release as he has so many times before. It will be a victory for Matthew, perhaps enough to sate his need to feel as though he still has Will as his own.

He can feel that Hannibal needs to be close to Will, as much of their bodies touching as possible, their mouths and gazes joined intimately even with another there, so that Will can show him with tenderness how much he matters. It will be a kindness for Hannibal, perhaps enough to reassure him that no matter what Will’s body desires, his heart belongs only to him.

Only when Will has taken his time to open Hannibal enough, despite the rutting impatience of Matthew at his backside, does Will slowly rock inside of him. For a moment, it is only them, eyes held on each other, breaths timed in tandem and as Will takes Hannibal’s hand and holds it against the carpet their fingers twine. Only when the long and simmering kiss has broken does Will turn towards Matthew, eyes flashing as the tenderness blinks away and is replaced with a grin that looks more like a snarl. Matthew is far less patient, far less kind, and Will shakes, groaning, at the rough entrance that feels as though it will split him in two.

And it becomes a fight again, groans and gasps from Will as he arches, from Hannibal beneath them both, kisses tender turned to growls and twists, Will’s free hand back to grab against Matt's thigh to dig nails into his skin.

"Lost your fucking knack?" Will laughs, cursing loudly when in answer Matt shoves in deeper, harder against him. "Jesus."

Will ducks his head, forehead to Hannibal's, lips parted to catch Hannibal's panting breaths, to whisper and adore him, letting go of his hand to slide down to spread him more, Hannibal's legs wide, Will on his knees just between them, Matt pressing his thighs to Will’s as he fucks him harder.

It is like two different worlds, tenderness and possession, and Will relishes them both; arching back to have Matt bite between his shoulders, telling him he’ll make Will filthy for him after this, used and debauched and sweaty... bending over Hannibal as he promises the older man the same.

It takes time, awkward off-beats that prove just as exhilarating - unexpected hard shoves from behind, that drive Will against Hannibal rougher than he intends - as when they finally find their rhythm, a ceaseless arrangement of limbs and mouths that form them into a whole rather than three separate parts, with Will’s mind and body as keystone bridged between them both.

And through it all their words, twining between each and all. A challenge from Matthew for Will to take more, he knows he can, becomes Will arching harder back against him, holding still inside Hannibal but for the rocking that resonates through his body, and Will’s fingers press against Hannibal’s opening as if to breach inside him, but Will tells him that he stretches so fucking beautifully and Will wants to see it and Hannibal grits his teeth and swears in a language Will doesn’t know and Will kisses him.

Again and again, he kisses him.

Only when Will’s hair is roughly pulled, as if in reminder - as if he could forget - of who else is there, does Will arch back and kiss Matthew, but it is a rough and eager thing, Matthew’s bottom lip held between Will’s teeth until Matthew grins and jerks him back again, worshipping Will’s neck and shoulder with nothing less than a consuming adoration, staggering in its intensity. Nearly sitting over his knees, Will clutches to Hannibal’s hips to pull him with, unwilling to feel himself unfilled, unwilling to not be held so hot inside Hannibal in turn.

It comes in waves, all of it, as the passion had started, so it begins to crest. Will begs and is denied, once, twice, and then disobeys them both and cums with a cry, head back as Hannibal splays his hand over his throat, Matt twists his in Will’s hair. Will goes rigid, pliant, trembling, between the two of them, immediately dropping a hand to stroke Hannibal as he mutters filthy things over his shoulder.

“You gonna make me pay for it, huh? Bend me over a fucking table when I can walk again.”

“Civilize you fucking proper.”

Will laughs, pressing a kiss to Hannibal’s cheek and whispering for him to cum, please, just for him, so Will can see it when he looks so fucking lost, entirely to his own pleasure. But it is Matt who cums first, of the two of them, bent over Will and scratching red down his sides as Will had with his free hand against whatever skin he could reach, shuddering and cursing his way to heavy pliancy, and only then does Hannibal, pulling Will against him to kiss, deep and warm, until all three are spent, panting, together on the floor.

In a rare moment of consideration for those beneath him, Matt pulls free with a low laugh and drops heavily to the carpet beside them. Sleepy already, he starts to reach for Will to pull him near but hesitates, watching as Hannibal’s hand is there instead, holding softly to Will’s face, the other in his wild curls of hair, and Matt lets his hands fall back against the carpet. Will murmurs soft promises against Hannibal for a moment more, lost in the dark, hooded eyes that see only him and with a shared kiss and Hannibal’s gentle nod, Will sighs and shifts from inside of him, to lay between them.

It’s only for a moment, though Will had hoped inside perhaps to be held between them both as their breaths all settled. Warm arms around him from both sides, bodies pressed close, an adoration for each in turn and how much they have each meant in their separate ways, but it does not come. Matt moves aside, pushing to sit up, unsteady still from the exertion of it but quickly gathering himself, and stands.

“Matt,” Will breathes, but a hand is held up to quiet him as Hannibal remains still, watching without watching the way that Will looks after Matt for a moment more.

“C’mon,” answers Matt, “you know this is how it always was. A fuck and then I go home.”

He says it with a laugh that he hopes hides the bruising of his ego. It doesn’t, not to Will, and Hannibal leans close to murmur against Will’s ear before gathering himself from the floor in kind. Will nods and doesn’t watch as Hannibal takes up his clothes, leaves Will’s on the couch for him, and makes his way slowly up the stairs.

For a moment then, as Matt dresses, Will sits alone on the floor and shivers at the sudden cold that settles against sweat-slick skin. Matt tosses his clothes to him and Will puts on his shirt, unbuttoned, his shorts, enough to cover himself before Matthew offers him a hand to tug him from the floor. Their eyes meet in passing before Will leans against him, and with one arm, Matt embraces him just enough to give his back a brisk rub, turning his mouth aside from the kiss Will seeks to give him and finds only his cheek instead.

“Fuck off,” Matt tells him, an affection in the admonition that tears at Will as he pads behind Matt to the door. He shoves his feet into his shoes and stretches, languid, before grabbing his coat, but Will catches his wrist and brings Matthew’s hand to his mouth.

A kiss, just once, against his palm, and when Matt’s fingers curl against his cheek Will murmurs, “Thank you.”

“Shut up,” Matt laughs, and presses their foreheads together before he turns, and goes, and Will is alone.

He wraps his arms around himself for a moment and just stands, turns and rests his back against the door with a sigh and closes his eyes as his head leans back. His entire body shakes with the experience it just had, mind still reeling to catch up that he had had both Matthew and Hannibal against him, naked, taking him entirely apart for mutual pleasure… and no one died.

Will laughs, then he laughs louder, hand against his face before he drags it up through his hair and pushes from the door to go upstairs. He makes a quick beeline for the main room, grabbing the rest of his clothes and turning out the light, seeing that the dishes had been cleared from the kitchen - perhaps while he and Matt had their moment.

Almost as an afterthought, Will takes up the bottle of wine to take with him.

Upstairs, Hannibal is in the shower, door to the bathroom open and steam coiling on the floor, inviting. Will sets the bottle down and promptly undresses, joining Hannibal under the hot stream.

A groan, warm, and Hannibal drapes an arm around Will’s shoulders, another, and pulls him close to kiss against his temple.

For long minutes, they are comfortably quiet, arms looped around each other and the water beating down against them. Though truly there was no doubt as to where he would be at the end of the night, Will is relieved to find himself there, pulled close against Hannibal once more. Finally, he sighs a laugh, and tilts his head up - curls stuck long against his face - and brings Hannibal’s mouth against his with gentle fingertips and a soft little sound.

“The only thing that you could do to surprise me at this point,” Will tells him, “would be if you stopped surprising me.”

Hannibal hums, smooths Will’s hair back from his face and tilts his chin upward to kiss him again, closed-lipped and tender, before nuzzling his cheek. “Then a repeat of this surprise is unlikely,” Hannibal admits, and Will huffs a laugh. “But I will do my best never to disappoint.”

“Couldn’t if you tried,” Will tells him with a soft smile, studying Hannibal’s expression for a moment more. To ensure there is nothing unusual there, now, no sense of discomfort or betrayal, and in Hannibal’s eyes he finds only a loving acceptance. “I don’t know how to thank you,” admits Will, and he finds in response, the soap pressed against his palm.

“Wash yourself,” answers Hannibal, eyes narrowing in amusement. “And then you will let me civilize you properly.”


End file.
